| You drive like you’re in a tank
|
| And you’re tanked
|
| With the way you’re changing lanes
|
| No wonder you’re banged up
|
| Maybe you should hang up
|
| Do what’s right, do what’s right, do what’s right now
|
| And pull it over to the right
|
| You…
|
| Picked…
|
| The wrong…
|
| Time…
|
| To…
|
| Fuck…
|
| With…
|
| ME!!!
|
| You roll like the road is yours
|
| Uninsured, with those bent, expired plates
|
| Putting makeup on
|
| Inside the passing lane
|
| Not that bright, not that bright, not that bright, clown
|
| So pull it over to the right
|
| I see your parking sticker
|
| I see your visor christ
|
| But you don’t understand
|
| That the wheel in my hand
|
| Can decide you fucker
|
| You drive like you’re in a tank
|
| In the way and you’re driving like a bitch
|
| You little piece of shit
|
| I’ll put you in a ditch
|
| Do what’s right, do what’s right, do what’s right now
|
| And pull it over to the right
|
| You…
|
| Picked…
|
| The wrong…
|
| Time…
|
| To…
|
| Fuck…
|
| With…
|
| ME!!!
|
| I see your parking sticker
|
| I see your visor christ
|
| But you don’t understand
|
| That the wheel in my hand
|
| Can decide you fucker
|
| I see your mouth is running
|
| I see your finger fly
|
| But you don’t understand
|
| That the wheel in my hand
|
| Can decide your FUCKING LIFE |